


All Small Beasts should have...

by CrownGal36



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Traits, Baby Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Cat Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, Child Abuse, Crying, Family Feels, Gen, Good Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Mutilation, My First Mumintroll | Moomins Fanfic, Not Beta Read, Protectiveness, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Whump, Tags May Change, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownGal36/pseuds/CrownGal36
Summary: (Pay attention to the tags!!!)On their travels back to Moominvalley, Joxter and Snufkin take a break to rest in the forest. Joxter leaves his son sleeping beneath a tree to grab some breakfast before they head off again.But when he returns, he finds Snufkin missing, and his little claw marks desperately scratched into the base of the tree trunk.Joxter’s heart drops.(Title may change)
Relationships: Joxaren | The Joxter & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Muminmamman | Moominmamma/Muminpappan | Moominpappa, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first fanfic! I’m not the best writer but I hope I can improve, so constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

The light chirping of the forest birds roused the Joxter from his sleep. Sunlight was creeping through the trees, signifying morning had arrived. Joxter blinked groggily and attempted to sit up, but feeling a slight weight on his chest refrained him from doing so. Looking down at the little lump, he smiled at the sight of his son curled up against his body.

The small mumrik child was still fast asleep, one tiny fist gripped his tunic tightly as his other hand was pressed against his face, his thumb disappeared in his mouth. His chest rose and fell in small steady breaths, his face the picture of pure serenity. His tail flicked every now and then as he dreamt.

Joxter’s heart filled with so much love for his child. He didn’t want to disturb his sleep let alone move and just fall back asleep, but he had to get up and find breakfast for the both of them. He placed a paw against his sons head and gently ran his fingers through his hair.

“Snufkin…”Joxter called quietly. “Snufkin…wake up, little one.”

Snufkin purred at the feeling of his father’s fingers playing with his hair, snuggling further into Joxter’s chest. The vibration of the older mans chuckle had the child grumbling at his disturbed sleep.

“Come on my small beast, Daddy needs to get up and get us food.” 

Snufkin groaned and released his fathers shirt, allowing Joxter to sit up fully while manoeuvring his son so he was now placed in his previous spot. Snufkin immediately curled up into a ball amongst the flattened grass, the spot warm and cozy. Joxter smiled at how cute his son was, and reached over the pet his hair once more, earning more soft purring from the boy. Joxter felt bad disturbing his child’s sleep, especially after the long day they had yesterday. 

“Alright, I’ll let you sleep until I get back. I won’t be long, my little beast.” 

“…Okay, daddy…” Snufkin mumbled. 

Joxter gave a small kiss to his baby’s head, who let out a small noise in response. Snufkin heard his papa move away and stand up, bones popping as he stretched and yawned, before the familiar sound of grass shuffling got quieter and quieter as his parent walked away into the forest.

Snufkin let out a small sigh and curled up tighter into his ball, his tail wrapping around his little body, already missing his daddy’s warmth. The spot still smelled of his daddy, providing some comfort for his absence. He faded in and out of consciousness over the course of time his father was gone, before hearing the familiar sounds of footsteps approaching. He smiled, expecting his daddy to have brought back a small pile of fish, berries or fruit for them to eat, but frowned when he heard multiple pairs of feet following the first. He suddenly became more alert, realising that these were not his fathers approaching steps.

His daddy warned him to hide if someone he didn’t know came close to him, but there was no place for him to hide really, other than in the tree above him. Snufkin flinched when he now heard gruff voices talking among themselves. Definitely not his father. They sounded deep, rough and…angry? He couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but hearing the tone in their voice, he got a bad feeling. He pressed himself closer to the tree, trying to flatten himself against to bark as best as he could. He held his hands against his mouth to muffle any sound that may slip, as he could hear the voices get closer and louder. The child held his breath as the footsteps stopped. It felt like minutes passed before any other sounds could be heard. Snufkin chanced for a breath, and tried to peer around the tree to see if there was anyone there. 

The next thing he knew, he was being yanked off the ground by the scruff of his shirt. He yelped in surprise, and started kicking his legs at the perpetrator.

“Well, lookie here fellas” the figure chuckled “looks like we got ourselves a rare looking mumrik”

Snufkin didn’t relent his kicks, trying to wriggle out of the mans hold. He hissed at him.

“Heh, fiesty little thing.”

“Whoa, never seen one like that before.” another voice chimed. Snufkin felt hands grip his face, turning it side to side as the new person inspected his features. “Must be a rare hybrid. Could make us a lot of money.” 

“Excellent find, guys, guess all that tracking paid off huh?”

“Check out this tail” the one holding him by the scruff yanked on his tail, causing the child to hiss and cry. He manoeuvred his head out of the hold that held his face, and bit down on the hand. Hard. The man in front of him shot his hand away in pain, the one holding him dropping him in surprise.

“Ow! You little-!” The man with the now bleeding hand cursed.

Snufkin landed on the forest floor gracefully, his cat like reflexes coming into play. He scrambled past the towering figures and made for the tree him and his father had been resting against. 

“Grab it!” He heard one of the men yell, he couldn’t tell which one it belonged to, but it was filled with pure fury.

Snufkin’s breath quickened, as he desperately clawed at the tree, trying to climb it, trying to escape. He couldn’t make it more than a few centimetres up the bark, he didn’t have the strength to pull himself up any higher. 

He cried out in terror when he felt the same grip to the back of his neck moments ago, as he was lifted back into the air. He held on to the tree with all his might, but was ultimately forced away, breaking a few nails from how deep he sunk his tiny claws into the bark. 

He struggled and cried in the mans grip, hit tears and snot making their way down his face.

“Let me go! Please! Put me down!” Snufkin fought, squirming in the mans grip.

“You stupid, little brat! Why, I oughta teach you some manners.” the man cradling his hand growled as he loomed over the boy. The one holding the child pulled him away.

“Hey! Don’t even think about it! He’s too valuable! Suck it up and let’s just crate him.” He whistled for the other figure standing by to go fetch something from their supplies, while the injured male grumbled about “stupid, disgusting children”.  
“Please…please let me go! I want my daddy!” Snufkin continued to cry.

“Daddy, huh? It’d be interesting to see what conceived you.” The one holding him gave him a harsh shake.

“Idiot, lets just get this brat out of here and go, I don’t wanna deal with angry parents.” The injured one said. The hostage holder chuckled darkly, as the man who went to the supplies returned with a small, wooden crate. Just large enough to carry with both hands. Snufkin froze at the sight of it, confused. That is, until he was being lowered into it.

“N-no! No! Don’t put me in there! Help!” Snufkin screamed. “Daddy! Help me!” 

The child thrashed around, making it harder for the man to keep a good grip on him. He growled, losing patience. He balled up his free fist and struck the Snufkin across the head, surprising the other two bystanders.

“Shut up, you fucking brat! I’m getting real sick of you!” 

Snufkin went limp, heavy sobs and sniffles the only sounds leaving the little mumrik. The men proceeded to stuff him in the crate and shut the lid.

“Wow man, didn’t think you’d actually hit the kid.” The one holding the crate said. The attacker scoffed. 

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“Heh, true, little freak was giving me a migraine.”

With that, they left the area, carrying the sobbing child away, laughing as they did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joxter returns to their resting spot and panics when he can’t find his son.

Joxter was humming a small tune as he made his way back to camp, hoping that Snufkin would be awake by the time he arrived. The little boy enjoyed his sleep almost as much as Joxter…almost.

Snufkin was a very adventurous child, and enjoyed exploring as much as he could, experiencing new things. They had spent most of the day previous travelling back to Moominvalley to visit his old friend, Moomin. He heard he had a child of his own, not far from Snufkin’s own age, and thought they should at the very least meet. Travelling so far to Moominvalley in such short time probably tuckered the little lad out, hence his exhaustion. Joxter was looking forward to arriving at their destination today, so he could lounge around Moomin’s house, while his son made a possible new friend. 

The man smiled to himself and hoisted the sack of fresh food he had scavenged higher over his shoulder. Once they had eaten, they would set off, he decided. He entered the familiar clearing he had left his son, but noticed something was…off. There was not a single sound to be heard. 

The birds had stopped singing, and as Joxter looked up at some of them on the branches, looked grief stricken. His brow furrowed as he frowned, feeling an unpleasant feeling stirring in his stomach. He made his way over to the tree he had left Snufkin under, his pace more hurried than usual. 

“Snufkin?” Joxter looked down to the patch of grass his son was curled up on, and his breath caught when he noticed it was empty.

‘Ok.’ Joxter thought ‘Stay calm. He probably woke up and is exploring around, nothing to be worried about.’ 

He took a deep breath, and called out for his son.

“Snufkin? Snufkin! I’m back!” 

No response. 

Maybe he couldn’t hear him. He would have to scold him for wandering off too far.

“Snufkin! Daddy’s back, and I have food! Come on out!”

Still nothing. Maybe he was playing hide and seek?

“Snufkin! Snufkin! Please come out! We can play after breakfast!”

Silence.

Joxter could feel his pulse racing. Snufkin was one to wander off on his own, sure, but he never strayed too far, especially without telling him where he was going.

He walked back to the tree, when he noticed something that caught his eye.

Scratch marks. Joxter felt his heart stop. 

The size of the nails were small and familiar. He remembers the times Snufkin trying to climb up the trees himself, but couldn’t make it far off the ground yet without Joxter giving him a boost the rest of the way. He noticed a broken claw stuck in the bark, which he recognised from Snufkin’s tiny, little hands. These marks were a sign of a desperate attempt to escape, from what, he didn’t know.

Joxter dropped to his knees before the damaged tree, pressing his hands against the wood.

“No, no, no, no, no” Joxter repeated in a desperate mantra. He felt sick as his world was spinning around him. His baby was gone, trying to get away from something so terrifying he hurt himself in the process. Joxter’s breathing shortened and sped up, on the verge of hyperventilating.

He couldn’t lose his baby, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t know what to do, how to cope. He was the most precious thing in the world to him, and he would never forgive himself if he-

“Snufkin!!!” Joxter practically screamed, shooting up in an instant. “Snufkin! Baby! Where are you?!”

He had to find him, he had to. 

“Snufkin! Please, answer me! Someone! Help me!” He ran around the clearing, looking for any sign of where he could have gone, of have been taken. It was silent, save for the cries escaping his throat echoing through the clearing. The birds looked on, sympathy for the poor parent as he panicked. Most hid back away to their nests, unable to bare the desperation of the Joxter.

Joxter in his panic, almost missed a small, red trail scattered on some grass blades out of the clearing. 

He recognised the trail well. 

Blood.

Joxter paled at the sight. He prayed it wasn’t his son’s, that he wasn’t hurt, or dying…or dead.

No! He couldn’t think like that.

It was still fresh, which means whoever took his boy couldn’t have gone far.

With dangerous determination, he sprinted off, following the trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for protective Joxter


	3. Chapter 3

“You sure you know the way outta here?”

“Course I do! Just gotta make a right here…”

“Haven’t we seen that tree before?”

“We’ve seen all these trees before, moron!”

“Can’t we take a break? I still need to bandage my hand”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Ugh, fine. Five minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

Snufkin felt himself being dropped to the ground within the dark and condensed crate. He rattled around briefly and gave a whine at the motion. It was hard to breathe in the tight space, so he thumped a tiny fist lightly at the wooden wall for attention.

“Please…please let me out…! I don’t like it in here!” He yelped when the crate shook harshly from a blow to the side.

“Would you shut up already! God, you’ve been nothing but a pain in our asses this entire trip”

“Hey! Careful! You don’t wanna damage the goods!” Snufkin heard the men arguing amongst themselves, and began to softly sob again.

He hated it in here, he wanted his daddy to save him and cuddle him and give him kisses and tell him everything is ok, that he was ok cause daddy protected him.

“Daddy…please, save me…” the little boy sniffled miserably. He tried to suck in some air, but found it becoming more difficult as time went on. He knew the hunters wouldn’t let him out, he tried before when he told them he needed the bathroom. They weren’t taking their chances, lest he try and escape.

He did, however, notice something new in the crate. A sliver of light. The latch on top of the crate had seemingly come loose, probably from the force of the mans kick earlier, and allowed the top to open slightly. Snufkin pressed a tiny hand over the wood, and applied some pressure. It began to budge, giving way to his weak pushes. He paused his actions, listening in the the men’s conversation. If he was going to escape, he would wait till they weren’t paying any attention to his general direction. 

They were speaking in low tones, so it was hard to make out anything they were really saying. Then silence. One sounded as if he was getting up and walking away. The remaining two started whispering to each other about something unintelligible to the child.

Snufkin decided now was as good of a chance as he was going to get, and slowly but firmly pressed against the hatch. He tried to be as quiet as he could, making sure it’s hinges didn’t creak as the door opened. He held his breath and he got it open just barely enough to peak at the hunters. They were facing away, their attention caught on something beyond the trees. The child felt some form of relief, he hadn’t been noticed. He pushed the hatch open more, until it was open just enough to let him slip out quietly.

He was almost out, when his tail caught the latch of the crate, making it jingle.

Time seemed to stand still, when both of the remaining hunters, spun their heads to look at the now escaped Snufkin. The little boy felt utter terror at the shocked anger upon their faces, and decided to his best option was to run away, as fast as his little legs would take him. He didn’t get very far, however, when he felt one of the men grab his tail in a tight and harsh grip, lifting him into the the air. Snufkin was held upside down, pain shooting from his tail up to his spine and screamed in agony and fear.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?” The man holding him snarled. Snufkin trembled in his hold, begging, pleading to be let go, that it hurt.

“Daddy! Please, I want my daddy!”

“‘Daddy’ ain’t coming for you, little shit. Probably will forget about you soon enough.” The man smiled darkly. Snufkin shook his head frantically, still trying to wriggle out of his crushing grip.

“No! You’re a b-big, dumb, l-liar!” Sobbed the child. The man scowled at him and shook the child around, earning more pained cries.

“You wanna try that again, huh?” He bared his teeth, leering down at the little boy. Snufkin was reduced to full blown painful sobs and hiccups, gasping for air. The grip on his tail was becoming unbearable to deal with, and he could feel blood rushing to his head from his position in the air.

  
“D-daddy…please…” he cried out weakly, feeling sick and dizzy.

“Alright man, I think he learnt his lesson, put him back into the box and let-“ he was cut off by a scream in the forest. It was a spine chilling sound that made both hunters freeze on the spot.

They stayed completely silent, the only sound being Snufkin’s weak sobs. A rustle in the trees had them looking around, the one not holding Snufkin pulling out a knife from his belt around his waist, moving into a defensive position. The sound of a branch creaking caused the party to look up, leaves rustling and falling around them.

There, they saw two emerald, feline eyes, shining brightly in the shadows. Whatever it was was perched stoically on the branch, staring unblinking down at the hunters. The men felt ice crawl up their spines, as if the Groke presence had just passed by them.

The feline creature’s gaze shifted to the crying child held in the brutes grasp, and felt unimaginable rage overcome him. It lunged at the man offending assailant, making him drop the boy immediately to defend himself.

“Shit! It’s a Joxter!” The man with the knife exclaimed. Snufkin tumbled to the ground painfully, landing by the knife wielder’s feet. He groaned in pain, but looked over to his rescuer, and his heart sang with happiness.

“Daddy!”

“ _Daddy_!?”

Joxter was clawing and biting at the now screaming hunter who had manhandled his child, blood evident on his face from a previous brawl. The knife wielder could guess what happened to their missing companion. From the looks of it, this member of their party was going to meet the same fate, as he saw the Joxter sink his teeth into the mans neck. No way was he going to try and fight off a Joxter, especially one as enraged as this. He glanced at the child on the ground and scooped him up into his arms. Snufkin cried out at the sudden change, and felt himself being carried away.

“Daddy!” Snufkin cried. “Daddy, help me!” Hearing the cries of his child, Joxter looked from the recent corpse to the now fading figure carrying his baby away. He saw his son’s terrified little face, and released a threatening animalistic growl, chasing after them.

“Shit, shit, shit” the hunter panted. He ran in zig zags, hoping to lose the Joxter as he weaved through the trees. The child was still calling for his father, squirming in his arms. The man cursed, slapping a hand over the child’s mouth to keep him quiet as he hid behind a large tree. Snufkin struggled, his yells muffled against the hand.

The hunter contemplated his next move. He could lure the Joxter using the child, and kill him. He could make money off the body and the child could be sold to a collector, a high price placed upon the hybrid.

He shook his head. No.There wasn’t any guarantee he would survive battling against the feline man, especially when it had its paternal instincts take over.

Maybe he could just make a run with the child. He frowned at the idea. The small boy was a hassle to carry around, his crying and squirming slowing him down and easy to track, and this Joxter would surely stalk them until he retrieved his kin and acted on his revenge.

The hunter thunked his head against the trunk of the tree in frustration. He refused to have come all this way, lost two of his party members, and not have gained any profit from it. He looked down at the little mumrik, catching the sight of his unique looking tail swaying as he squirmed about in his hold. He followed the tail as it moved, then back down to his knife he holstered back into his belt.

An idea sprang into his mind. The hunter pulled the knife out out from his belt once more, and held it up in front of the child. In the reflection of the shining metal, he saw panic fill the young boy’s eyes and felt his breathing speed up.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’m not gonna kill ya…I’m just gonna take something off of ya.” The hunter grinned, a menacing gleam in his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joxter catches up to the hunter...but is he too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a graphic description of gore in this chapter so, fair warning!

_Where did they go? Where did they go? **Where did they go?**_ **_  
  
_ **

Joxter sprinted through the forest, frantically trying to catch up with the hunter who ran off with his son. He lost track of him when he stumbled against an upturned root. He couldn’t hear Snufkin’s cries for help anymore, and began to fear the worst.

A smell suddenly hit him, faint, but distinct. It caused his pupils dilate, creating a pool of of black in his eyes. Blood. A million thoughts ran through his head, his pulse racing. He couldn’t dwell on those now, his baby needed him.

With the scent guiding him, he bolted past the trees with new found vigour, running faster than he’d ever ran before.

An ear piercing scream reached his sensitive ears, the sound staggering him slightly at the intensity of it. It didn’t stop, the owner sounded like they were in absolute _agony,_ like they were being tortured. It sounded far too young. Joxter gripped his chest.

_Oh God. No, no, no, **no, no.**_

Joxter ran at almost inhuman speed, the smell and screams allowing him to hunt down the two as it got stronger and louder.

Finally, when the scent became overpowering, he knew he caught them, but he also realised something alarming. The screaming had stopped. His stomach dropped at the implications oh what that could mean.

He rounded a cluster of tightly packed trees, and saw something that would be burned into his memory forever.

There, the hunter was kneeling over Snufkin’s tiny, unmoving body, the boy faced down in the grass. In one of the hunter’s hands he held a freshly bloody dagger, and in the other…was Snufkin’s small, detached, bloody tail.

Joxter felt like he was drowning. The hunter was speaking, but his speech was muffled, a dull ringing and the thrumming of his own racing pulse echoed in Joxter’s head as he chocked on his own breath. His gaze was focused on the still child lying on the ground, red running down his body from the bloody stump of his remaining tail, staining his clothes and grass below.

He must of blacked out, because the next thing he was aware of was that he was on top of the hunter, with his fangs lodged deep into his jugular. Joxter pulled free from the mans neck, the thick smell and taste of iron heavy on his tongue. His face felt wet and sticky, especially around his mouth.

Looking down at the body was a grotesque sight, completely unrecognisable from its previous appearance when it was alive. It was covered in deep claw marks, scratches tearing the mans clothing until it was in rags. His stomach was torn open, his organs spilling out, meeting to the warm spring air. The face was almost completely gone, chunks of skin and flesh missing, his eyes also being scratched out.

Joxter growled lowly at the sight and licked his lips, his tail flicking back and forth. In the corner of his eyes, he caught something by the corpse’s hand. Turning to look at it, he was grimly reminded the cause of all this mess.

His son’s tail.

He scrambled off of the body and frantically searched around for his child, finding him only a few feet away. He was still in the same position he was in before his blackout, face down on the ground, worryingly still. Joxter rushed over to the boy, before dropping down to his knees by his tiny form.

His hands hovered above the small body, unsure and scared to touch him. The sight of the stained grass and bloody stump left from his hacked off tail made Joxter want to throw up.

“Snufkin…?” Joxter’s voice shook. “Snufkin, please….it’s me, it’s Daddy.”

The boy didn’t budge. Joxter sucked in a sharp breath and lay his hands lightly on the child’s back, giving him a gentle nudge. He repeated his name a few more times, each time his voice escalating in volume and desperation, until he heard a quiet sound of pain escape Snufkin.  
  


Joxter let a few welled up tears fall from his eyes at the sound. His son was still alive. A sob escaped him, relieved he didn’t lose his baby, and leaned down to gently nuzzle the boys hair in an attempt to comfort him.

“Oh God…Thank God, thank God. I’m so sorry Snufkin, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he rambled, burying his face in the soft, tangled locks, covering every place he could reach in kisses.

He had to get help, find a doctor, _anyone_ who could help his child. Looking at his surroundings, he recognised that the chase led them in the woods near Moominvalley, and felt some hope in getting Snufkin to safety.

Joxter drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if Snufkin was conscious enough to be aware that he was there, but he wanted to give him a warning anyway.  
  


“Snufkin? Baby? Daddy’s going to need to pick you up now to take you to make you better, okay?”

Joxter was surprised to hear a tiny whine come from the boy.

“…it hurts, Daddy…” Snufkin quietly sobbed. Joxter’s heart broke, and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“I know, my baby, I know it does. That’s why I have to carry you for a little bit. It might hurt for a little while longer, but it will be alright, I promise”. He smoothed down the boys hair as he tried to soothe his pain. Snufkin let out another sob, but nodded his head ever so slightly.

“That’s my strong little beast.” Joxter smiled down at him. “I’ll get us there as quickly as possible”

Reaching underneath the boy’s body, he looped his arms around his tiny frame, being sure to avoid his stump. He tried to ignore the blood that trickled out of it as he was moved about. Snufkin cried out as he was gently lifted into his father’s arms, and gripped his sleeve at the pain spread through his body.

“D-Daddy-!”

“Shh, shh, shh, I know, I’m sorry Snufkin, I know it hurts, but it’s not far, I promise.” Joxter soothed, and made to stand up, trying his best to not jostle the child too much.

Snufkin bit his lip, trying to stifle his sobs of pain, and buried his face as deep as he could into his father’s shoulder. Joxter moved his hand from the child’s back to the back of his head, stroking the strands gently, as a low rumble sounded in his chest. Snufkin relaxed a little at that, loosening his tight grip slightly, and his cries quieting somewhat.

Standing up fully, Joxter murmured comforting words into the boy’s hair, as he carried him at hurried pace towards the direction of Moominvalley.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joxter finds an old friend who can help his son

Following the dirt path in the woods, Joxter noticed the a tree partition a little ahead of them. He hurried towards it, mindful of the wounded boy in his arms. As he got closer, he could spot a squint signpost, with a red letterbox attached just beneath it. He stepped out from the trees, and was met with a cloudy blue sky, and green hills that spanned far off and faded in the distance. The sign he spotted was placed right by a small curved bridge, a calm steam filled with lily pads and overgrown grass. The arrow on the branch of the post was pointed in the direction of a tall blue house, a red roof sitting on top of it. It looked familiar to him, an image from far back in his memories before Snufkin was born. 

At the thought of his son, he looked down at the little mumrik and noticed he had gone very quiet. No sniffles or hiccups, even his breathing was faint. The tiny grip on his sleeve had gone limp, the arm dangling by his side. His backside was still stained red, but the stump seemed to still be leaking more blood, as a small trail had followed behind them on their travel.

Joxter’s breath hitched and felt his pulse speed up. He was running out of time. With an increased sense of urgency, he gripped the child closer to his body, he sped towards to house, running over the arched bridge and up the path.

“Help! Help!” Joxter yelled. “Please! Help us!”

He skidded to a stop on the doorstep, and pounded a fist against the wood in desperation.

“Please, please, someone, I need help!” Joxter pleaded, almost on the verge crying. Snufkin was dead weight in his arms, and could feel the bloody damp spot against his hand from where he was holding him grow.

The door swung open to reveal a white furred creature, with wide brown eyes and a black top hat sitting upon his head. Yep, it was definitely the Moomintroll he befriended all those years ago. If Joxter wasn’t in such a panic, he would have jabbed at the other’s newfound fashion choice.

“…Joxter?” The furry man asked, complete surprise in his voice. “Whatever is-“

“Moomintroll! Please! You have to help me! My son, h-he’s horribly injured!” He shifted the boy in his arms, and saw the moomin’s gaze shift down towards to unconscious child. “Please, please I need to save him!” Joxter pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes. ‘Moomintroll’ snapped out of his shock, and focused back on Joxter. He gave a quick nod and called back into the house, urging Joxter to follow him inside.

“Darling! Please, bring the the first aid kit, hurry!” The moomin guided the frantic father into the living room, as another vaguely familiar moomin appeared from the kitchen doorway, wearing a red and white striped apron, holding a small white case.

“Oh dear, are you alright? What happened?” Her eyes landed on Joxter, and then to the small child in his arms, her green eyes widening at the sight of his injury. She quickly leapt into action, appearing in front of Joxter and gesturing for him to hand his son over to her.

Despite his initial need to get help for Snufkin, Joxter’s instincts were starting to surface, and warning him about anyone touching his baby. He gave a low growl in the back of his throat, holding the boy protectively against his chest. The female moomin flinched at the sound, but relaxed when she realised it was just the other being cautious.

A gentle paw landed on Joxter’s tense shoulder, a familiar reassuring touch he hadn’t felt for many years.

“It’s okay, old friend. Moominmamma is very competent with bad injuries. You can trust her.” ‘Moomintroll’ assured. Joxter hesitated for a moment, looking into his old friend’s eyes for any sign of trickery. He found none, and loosened his hold slightly.

“It’s alright, dear.” Moominmamma carefully took the child from Joxter and lay him on the sofa, before getting to work patching him up. Joxter stood close by, his eyes never leaving Snufkin as the female moomin cleaned and wrapped his injuries in bandages.

He didn’t get a good look at his face before, but Snufkin had a large bruise on his temple that was so dark it was almost black, and smaller ones littered around the rest if his face and body. The colour from his face was gone, leaving him pale from blood loss. He felt a lump form in his throat when Moominmamma removed his clothes, and saw the horribly mutilated stump of what used to be his tail, dried blood caked around his skin.

He felt someone holding him up, reassuring him and easing him onto the floor, when he felt he couldn’t stand anymore. His legs had turned to jelly, and had broken out into a cold sweat, all the colour leaving his face. He raised two shaking paws towards his face and pressed them up against his eyes, hoping the darkness will quell his rising nausea and help steady his breathing. The voices around him sounded like they were speaking underwater, while a high pitched ringing noise reverberated in his ears.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there for, until he felt a soft paw against his head ( _where did his hat go?)_ murmuring comforting words into his ear. Joxter risked looking up, and saw Moominmamma tidying away her supplies back into the first aid kit, as Snufkin lay soundlessly on the couch, covered by a small blanket. His gaze shifted to the one that was comforting him.

“Moomintroll…” he whispered, his voice feeling hoarse.

“It’s alright Joxter, your son will be alright. Mamma took good care of him.” The moomin reassured, giving the other moomin a loving smile, which she returned.

“I’ll be right back.” She said softly, leaving the room and heading back towards the kitchen. Joxter heard the tap run before she remerged, now holding a glass of water. She knelt down in front of the man and held it out for him to take. He looked at it warily, before gratefully accepting it with a shaky hand. He gulped the liquid down hastily, not even realising how thirsty he was from all that running and yelling earlier. The coolness soothed his throat somewhat, before handing the empty glass back to Moominmamma.

“Thank you…” he murmured.

“No need to thank me, dear.” She replied. The two moomins helped Joxter back onto his shaky feet, supporting him from each side, before leading him to the couch that the sleeping mumrik child was occupying. They sat him down on the cushion by Snufkin’s head, and he immediately placed a gentle hand in his hair, and began stroking the messy strands. He glanced up at the female moomin in silent question, before she smiled and gave him a small nod. With that, he lifted Snufkin, careful not to wake or disturb him, and placed him on his chest, as he lay back against the arm rest. Looking down at his son, seeing all the bandages wrapping up his little frame, had Joxter’s vision blurring, before the first sob escaped his lips. He held up a hand against his mouth to try and stifle the sounds, but the tears fell nonetheless, and his shoulders shook. The moomin couple looked at each other in understanding, before leaving the room to give Joxter a bit of privacy.

Once he was alone with his sleeping son, he held him tight against his chest, and finally allowed himself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a good Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more fluffy!

He doesn’t know how much time had passed, and frankly he didn’t care. Snufkin was sound asleep on his chest, being gently rocked back and forth and having kisses pressed to his hair every so often. Joxter refused to move from his spot on the sofa, afraid of disturbing the young mumrik. After everything that happened that day, he deserved the all rest he could get.

Despite being in a trusted and safe environment, Joxter was still on high alert. His protective instincts refused to relent, even while being in the company of the soft and accepting moomins. His eyes would dart around the room now and then, paranoia present, urging him to be on the look out for danger. Nothing was going to hurt his child again. Nothing.

He almost jumped out of his skin he heard that sound of china clinking together. Moominmamma stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a tray, two teacups, teaspoons, a teapot, a bowl of sugar and a small pot of milk on top.

“How are you holding up, dear?” She asked softly, setting the tray down gently on the coffee table across from her guests.

Joxter eyed her warily, before releasing a quiet sigh, bringing one paw to rub some of the tiredness from his eye.

“‘Been better I suppose, he hasn’t woken up yet.” He replied tiredly. Moominmamma gave a sympathetic smile. She moved to sit across from him in the single armchair, and began pouring the tea into the cups.

“I can’t imagine he’ll be up and about soon, the poor thing. Sugar, dear?” She held up the sugar bowl.

“Just milk, thank you.”

The moomin nodded, and poured a generous amount of milk. Joxter didn’t know how she could tell he liked his tea milky, but decided to not question it. She reached over to hand him his tea, but the sudden movement brought out something animalistic and protective over him. He pulled Snufkin away from the steaming cup and _hissed_ at the moomin. Moominmamma pulled back in surprise. She didn’t expect that. And by the look of surprise on Joxter’s own face, neither did he.

“O-oh…I’m so-so sorry about that, I don’t know what came over me.” Joxter blurted out, ashamed of such a reaction. Moominmamma’s eyes filled with understanding, and placed to cup down in front of him instead.

“It’s alright dear, simply an instinctive paternal reaction.” She said simply. Joxter still flushed in embarrassment.

“Even so, you didn’t deserve that, not after helping my child.” He gazed at the steam rising from his tea, watching it rise to the air as he carded his fingers through Snufkin’s messy locks.

Moominmamma shrugged. “I can imagine it being hard to trust anyone after what you’ve been through.” She stirred her tea slowly and leaned back into her seat. Joxter felt his lip curl into a frown at the events that happened that morning, still not fully satisfied with how quickly those hunters met their fates. If it were up to him, he would have put them through twice the amount of pain they put his son through. He could feel the moomin’s eyes boring into him, questions no doubt swimming through her head.

“What’s his name?”

“Huh?”

“Your little one. What’s his name?” She asked again.

“Oh” Joxter looked down at the sleeping mumrik lovingly. “This is Snufkin.”

“Snufkin…what a darling name. Cute as a button as well.” She giggled.

Joxter chuckled in return. “Yes, he sure is. Looks are deceiving though, he can cause a lot of mischief when he wants to.” He leaned over carefully for his tea.

Moominmamma hummed, taking a sip of her own. “We have a little one as well. Snufkin looks to be around little Moomintroll’s age as well.”

Joxter blinked confusedly at her. “Moomintroll? But I thought-“

“Oh dear, not that Moomintroll. It’s been a while since anyone has called him that. He goes by Moomimpappa now.” She smiled warmly. “I doubt you’ll remember who I am, but I used to be known as Moominmaiden.”

Joxter could vaguely remember a name like that. Then it clicked.

“Oh, were you the one that Moomintro- I mean, Moominpappa saved at sea?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s right, we met briefly before the group parted ways all those years ago.”

“Ah yes, I think I do remember you. Moomin was taken by you the second he laid eyes on you”.

Mamma flushed, a tinge of pink appearing beneath her fur. Joxter grinned at her from behind his cup at her sudden bashfulness, until he felt Snufkin stir slightly on his chest, giving sleepy grumbles as he readjusted himself. Joxter looked down at his son with nothing but pure affection. His eyes traveled to the non existent tail and fell silent once more. Moominmamma noticed the sudden change, and followed his gaze. The only sound in the room left was the ticking of the clock in the far corner.

After a few minutes of silence, the moomin spoke.

“You look exhausted, Joxter. Why don’t you clean yourself up and head to bed for a while? I’ll look after Snufkin in the meantime.” There was no judgement in her voice, only warmth.

Joxter stiffened at the thought of leaving Snufkin with someone else. He was about to refuse, until he realised the feeling of dried blood caked his skin and clothes, and the scent was still fairly potent. He doubted Snufkin would want to see him covered in his captors blood. Casting another glance at the moomin across from him, who was patiently waiting for a response, he loosened his hold just slightly on his son.

Moominmamma smiled encouragingly and got up from her seat, carefully approaching the two on the sofa. She held out her arms as non threateningly as possible, but Joxter was still tense. He searched for any reason to distrust in the moomin’s eyes, but found none. Placing one last kiss on Snufkins head, he sat up slightly, cradling the child in an open offer. Moominmamma reached over and delicately picked him up, cradling the back of his head Snufkin immediately snuggling into the soft warm fur on Moominmamma’s shoulder, letting out a small sigh. Joxter let his fingers linger on the boy’s back for a moment, still hesitant on his brief absence.

“It’s alright, dear, I’ll watch over him until you’re back.” Moominmamma reassures, rubbing her paw up and down the little ones back. “We’ll be upstairs on the right when you’re ready.”

Joxter nodded slowly, withdrawing his hand just as quickly. Snufkin was fine, he was in good hands. His eyes became heavier with the weight being lifted, and nearly fell asleep right then and there. He heard Mamma say something and the sound of footsteps, but couldn’t make it out from sudden drowsyness that overcame him. A soft paw landed on his shoulder, giving him a firm shake.

“Come on, old sport. Let’s get you up those stairs and into a bath. No offence Joxter, but you really do stink.”

Joxter grunted, tempted to just roll over on to his side and away from the voice, before he was shook once more.

“Come on Joxter, you need a good clean, then you can sleep. Here, I’ll help you up.”

With that he felt himself being tugged up into a sitting position, his blue eyes rolling back out of his skull and now seeing the white fuzz of Moominpappa. Joxter grumbled something, but Pappa seemed to either not understand, or ignored it. He slung the mumrik’s arm around his shoulder, before hoisting him up with an “easy does it” before guiding/dragging his old friend towards and up the stairs.


End file.
